Grey in Green

[Rolf Jäger]

The entire world seemed to have taken on a strange, unreal quality, making Rolf feel as if he could keel over at any given moment and only through sheer power of will did he manage to remain standing upright. The pain had changed into a curious pressure inside his head and it kept coming in continuous, burning waves that made his eyes sting, but even through all this agony his attention was still focused on the blonde woman, the very cause of all the misery he was now going through. Still, he could not feel any actual anger over her actions anymore and he recognized them as being something he would have done himself, too. Certainly, she had cheated and used some very dirty and painful tricks to get the upper hand, but this thought was again pushed aside by his continuously growing fascination. As much as he still considered her a peasant and hence, lesser in worth than him, he could hardly think of her as the usual kind of woman, or the usual kind of peasant, for that matter. She was so completely unlike anyone he had ever known, he couldn't help getting engrossed by her mere presence. His mother, for instance, had always been the fussy and delicate kind, the kind of woman who lived out of gossiping, new clothes and social gatherings - truly just the kind of woman one might associate with aristocracy. Then there was Elsa, Rolf's fiancee, who wasn't much too different when it came to personality - well, whatever she possessed that could be called a personality, in the first place. She acted like a flighty butterfly and always grew incredibly nervous in Rolf's presence. She would giggle, clamor and talk about nothing but utter nonsense until Rolf finally snapped and yelled at her, after which Elsa shrunk away, tears in her eyes... just to return later in the same overly happy mood, as if someone had just reset her sorry excuse for brains. Rolf often wondered how he had ended up getting engaged with her, but of course he already knew the answer - it had been a matter of mere practicality and Elsa had been a girl highly praised by Rolf's mother. She was from a good family, studied music, knew how to behave and how to entertain guests in socialite circles, making her the perfect wife for a young baron. Still, the fact remained that her presence drove Rolf completely insane and that the mere thought of having to spend more than a few hours around her, let alone an entire lifetime, filled his mind with such horrific thoughts of torment, they could have come from the depths of the very hell itself.

At least in Africa he was as far away from her as he could imagine ever getting and he kept hoping that Elsa would realize that Rolf never really intended to actually marry her. For reasons he could not fathom, had even kept her photograph in his fighter for a while as it seemed to be a popular thing to do among pilots, but just looking at the picture had made him feel dreadfully sick and he had conveniently lost the picture somewhere. As much as Rolf boasted about his bloodline, he had had more than his fair share of aristocratic women and found them either incredibly vain, brainless or just plain boring. But this blonde woman, this Riedel... She was not like the aristocratic women, yet she wasn't like the common peasant, either. She was something different entirely, an unique and fascinating creature that kept eluding him, teasing him and driving him towards something that resembled bordering madness. A fire was blazing inside of her and it was wild, erratic and unpredictable, manifested through her surprising strength and agility when she had attacked him, and in her well-placed, biting words which possessed the accuracy of a deadly viper. So how could he possibly not be fascinated by her very presence, by the almost legendary presence she commanded, by those brazen viridian eyes and her milk-white skin that seemed even paler now under the moonlight. He still harbored the same hatred towards her, but it was also mixed with raw lust and further twisted by his new desire to possess and own her. The concept of acquiring something had always been simple enough for him. See. Want. Take. Have If he couldn't buy something, then he would find other means of owning the things he desired - he had always been the kind of man who would not take no for an answer. Still, right now he knew that this time things wouldn't be as simple as that and that the woman would resist, rage and hate him as much as a caged wild animal. Still, it did not seem like an obstacle and if anything, it only further incited his desire to take on the challenge.

He knew that the words he had just spat at the woman had been aggravating enough and his breathing still came in labored, pained gasps as he stared at her, waiting for that hateful reaction. She smiled, but Rolf saw only maliciousness in that smile and he could almost imagine her lips curling away to reveal a set of vicious fangs. She discarded her cigarette, crushing it under her shoe, as if she was already promising to treat Rolf the same way. With a condescending, mocking smile, she studied him, telling him in a low whisper that he was pathetic and Rolf could only stare at her, his expression unchanging. He knew that these words would be just the beginning and that the mirthful, self-asserted insult was meant just as a painful verbal lash to make way for the physical punishment. His beaten and aching frame already prepared itself for the upcoming pain and somewhere in the deep reaches of his mind Rolf hoped that it would come soon, that she would beat him down once more, just so that he could rise to his feet again and show her that he refused to be defeated. When the woman stepped forward slowly, Rolf had to fight to keep himself standing upright and he lifted his chin up slightly, his grey eyes remaining on that assertive and entrancing face as he waited for her fingers to curl up into a fist and wreak vengeance on him over his arrogant words. Instead, he saw her hand moving towards his face and had Rolf been a dog, his ears would have moved back and his hackles would have been raised in distrust, but since he did not possess such means of displaying his emotions, he could only stare at her, a brief spot of apprehension flashing in his silver eyes.

But no, the touch was not followed by pain and the man flinched more out of expectation than anything else when he felt her fingertips on his lips, realizing very slowly that she was wiping away the blood. Her eyes were following the movements of her hand while Rolf stared at her, holding his breath while he waited for that surprisingly gentle touch to change into something raw and ferocious. Instead, her hand continued with cleaning away the blood and dust that clung to his skin stubbornly and, very slowly and carefully, Rolf's eyes closed half-way when he knew the woman's focus wasn't really on his expression. Even though her touch felt gentle, especially after all the punishing that very same hand just earlier meted out, there was a sense of practical purpose to it, but it did not prevent Rolf from imagining that behind that touch might have been something else, a more intimate and sympathetic meaning. He knew that such thoughts were only deceptions created by his own obsessed mind, but for the briefest moment he allowed himself to drown into that feeling, just standing there quietly, trying to maintain his precarious balance. As precise and purposeful as the gesture was, it was still the closest thing Rolf had ever experienced to gentleness and when he found himself too consumed by that feeling, he shook it off angrily, his eyes opening once again once the hand left his face.

Of course he could plainly read the mocking, overbearing expression dominating her face and the familiar anger rekindled within Rolf once again. It was nothing more but a joke to her and she only wanted to show him that she was in complete control of the situation and could have made him come tumbling down on the ground, had she chosen so. But no, instead she had decided to play the benevolent victor, now closing the topmost buttons of his shirt and making sure that the collars of the shirt were settled in a neat and respectful fashion. Even in his unsteady and powerless state, Rolf's eyes narrowed into hateful slits and he stood silent and still (as much as he could, at least), his burning gaze remaining fixed on the audacious female. Rolf could have slapped her hands away, he could have attacked her with scornful words, but instead he kept his chin raised up in a gesture of pride, a hint of an angry sneer lingering from the corner of his mouth. It would have been so much better if she had just attacked him again, for this was something Rolf's mind could understand, something he could even laugh at. But instead she had decided to torture him with this jeering gesture, treading on his self-esteem and dignity as if they meant nothing at all. A solitary, demanding thought prodded the corners of his mind, reminding Rolf just how much he had actually enjoyed her fingers over his skin and his hatred snarled at that undesirable, wanton little feeling, scaring it back into the darkness it had so callously appeared from. His mind had still been touched and tainted by that thought and once again he found himself overwhelmed by the mixed feelings of hatred and lust that simply did not seem to know their place or meaning.

In a scornful, teasing voice she invited him to attack her and his muscles, aching and weak as they felt right now, yearned to answer that challenge and to prove to her just how dangerous it was to provoke him in such a careless manner. That familiar cold anger had returned to Rolf's steely eyes and his lips distorted into a sneer as he tried to coordinate his muscles into slapping her, but instead, a sharp twinge of pain stabbed at him and a bright, white flash filled his entire vision for a small moment. Even as his entire consciousness had suddenly plunged into a fast, confusing tunnel that seemed to be travelling through some other time and place, he could feel his physical being tumbling down with it. Fleeting horror over humiliation made the pit of his stomach feel cold, but instead of hitting the ground, he could feel hands grasping him and stopping the fall short. It took him a good, solid moment to gather his wits again and his thoughts returned slowly, accompanied by tiny specks of light dancing in front of his vision and a very uncomfortable high-pitched sound ringing through his ears. His hand pushed weakly against the arm that had prevented him from slumping down and he already knew that he had been saved by that hateful, mordant female. Still, Rolf was too weak and dazed to protest and he had to blink his eyes fervently to make sense of things once again, pitifully relying on the woman's strength to keep himself standing.

Rolf's confused and pained eyes met her gaze and he expected to see joy over his weakness and her dominance in them, but instead she suddenly appeared very serious and, if he understood things correctly in his current condition, strangely sincere when she addressed him. In a very steady and confident tone she told him that she would never be his whore, that he should get back to the people who were better suited for him than her. He could feel her breath on his skin and it burned and chided him - he was so very close to her, yet too weak and pained to do anything at all and he could only listen to her as he leaned heavily against the woman in stunned silence. While his body, aching as it was, lewdly reminded him of just how close to each other they were standing right now, Rolf having to rely on the woman for support, the surprise and bewilderment dominated over all other things. Rolf's eyebrows furrowed in confusion at her words and sudden change of attitude. He could understand why she had acted in such an overly tactful manner, insulting him with her sudden care over his appearance, but he could not fathom why she had stopped him from tumbling down and why her voice no longer carried that sharp edge of malicious gleefulness to it. Her next words came in the form of an angry hiss as she warned him to never touch her again, the tone of her voice carrying more than just a hint of fierce warning to it.

Once Rolf had seemed to find his balance again, she pushed him away and the baffled man was left standing there, blinking and leaning momentarily to his other side in a rather precarious manner. At least for that fleeting moment, Hauptmann Rolf Jäger had been left quite speechless and his lips parted in confusion, his mouth hanging open as he swayed there in his spot, blinking. Most of the time Rolf appeared like the kind of person who took on a certain self-important appearance whenever he knew someone was watching him, as if he simply had to put on an act when among other people. Right now all of that was gone and a very uncharacteristic bewilderment dominated his features, the mask of pride and narcissism lost to the confusion. Then, very slowly, his left eyebrow raised up and the corner of his mouth pulled into an unsure half-smile while he struggled for words. "Die Frauen innen dort?" Rolf's head tilted to the side as he nodded towards the building where the party was still lively, happy and carefree. "Sie haben ganze ihre Gehirnmacht im Aufwachsen ihrer Busen ausgegeben. Oh Ja, müssen Sie denken, dass ich Dinge dieser Weg bevorzuge, aber... Ich tue nicht," Rolf rasped slowly and he answered to the woman's gaze with the same steady honesty as she had just graced him with. For that brief moment he seemed like a very different man, unpretentious and frank. "Was müssen sie mir anbieten, dass ich nicht bereits genossen habe?" the man asked, having to swallow the blood that still seemed to linger in his mouth. "Nein, das ist nicht, was ich will. Nicht, jetzt wo ich etwas so... entdeckt Einzigartig habe..." Rolf said in a low voice and his eyes fixed feverishly on the blonde woman, his hand almost automatically raising up as if to reach out for her, but he lowered it slowly, as if remembering the woman's warning and possibly even possessing at least some sense of respect towards it. "Sie können die libysche Sonne davon verbieten, unsere Haut zu verbrennen, und Sie können den Gezeiten vom Drehen, dem Mond davon erzählen, zu verklingen und wieder jeden Monat zu wachsen... aber der vollbringt irgendetwas aufrichtig?" A crooked smirk appeared at the corner of the man's mouth, but this smile was not mocking like all the other ones that had preceded it. No, this particular smile seemed to hold a certain amount of promise and there was an unmistakable look of intense hunger in the man's eyes as they remained on her features. "Nicht mehr können Sie, einem Jäger befehlen, aufzuhören zu jagen, Riedel."

His eyes remained steadfastly on the woman and it was clear that the man meant what he said, no matter how foolish and outlandish the idea was, the purpose of his words left open for interpretation, although his gaze had done anything but. The goal stood clear and straightforward in his mind and he had already decided to pursue that objective, no matter what the cost. He was a hunter, true to his blood and he would not let this quarry get away from him. Everything there was to the woman, to her blonde hair and white skin, to the simplicity and rawness of her actions, enticed and called for him. No matter how fiercely she might fight against him and how much she would hate him, he would not cease, would never give up. Rolf's chin tilted up proudly once again and his eyes narrowed, that familiar self-sufficiency taking over his features once again. The expression that had belonged to a serious, determined hunter became twisted by the taint of his unceasing egotism, although his promise still lingered in the air.


Translations:

"Die Frauen innen dort?"
"The women inside there?"

"Sie haben ganze ihre Gehirnmacht im Aufwachsen ihrer Busen ausgegeben. Oh Ja, müssen Sie denken, dass ich Dinge dieser Weg bevorzuge, aber... Ich tue nicht."
"They have spent all of their brain power in growing up their breasts. Oh yes, you must think I prefer things that way, but... I do not."

"Was müssen sie mir anbieten, dass ich nicht bereits genossen habe? Nein, das ist nicht, was ich will. Nicht, jetzt wo ich etwas so... entdeckt Einzigartig habe..."
"What do they have to offer me that I have not already enjoyed? No, that is not what I want. Not now that I've spotted something so... unique."

"Sie können die libysche Sonne davon verbieten, unsere Haut zu verbrennen, und Sie können den Gezeiten vom Drehen, dem Mond davon erzählen, zu verklingen und wieder jeden Monat zu wachsen... aber der vollbringt irgendetwas aufrichtig?"
"You can forbid the Libyan sun from burning our skin and you can tell the tides from turning, the moon from fading away and growing again each month... but does that truly accomplish anything?"

"Nicht mehr können Sie, einem Jäger befehlen, aufzuhören zu jagen, Riedel."
"No more can you command a hunter to cease hunting, Riedel."

[Dirk Riedel]

She may have expected many other reactions, as unpredictable as they might have appeared, but she had not expected another transformation, this time not to a beast of raging fire and uncontrollable wrath as though seared through the fiery gates of hell, but to a human being she had not thought of him worthy as; stripped of his pride and insolence, devoid of any stains of self-importance and righteousness as he gaped at her, and then serious, with an expression on his facial features such as to suggest he had devoured her words and shoved them through that swollen mind of his, ate them up, and even understood them, the earnest touch with which his eyes were influenced by almost disturbingly surrounding her. For that second he appeared so confused. So … human. There was nothing there to even suggest a mild form of restricted arrogance surging through a devious curl of his lips, his face was nothing more or less a visage of utter disorientation, and she stared back at him, curious but always stern. It was when he spoke of women that inwardly surprised her on some level even if on the outside she appeared just as austere and proud and resilient as she had proved herself throughout the course of this coarse evening.

She was surprised, but not impressed; in fact, these notions did little to extinguish the anger from her soul – a feat impossible in itself – for they only authenticated to her exactly how whimsical and self-absorbed he could be: clearly bored from those brainless, social debutantes, he now wished to entertain himself with something … unique? Had that, indeed, been the word he had used, the way with which he regarded her? She looked at him strangely, slightly frowning, not quite having ever thus thought of herself, instead believing she was just another person, a common human being, plain and simple and ordinary – but perhaps his dull aristocratic lifestyle had rendered him too thirsty for human beings that had a speck of personality more than him, like nomads dreaming of oasis in the scorching sun. He was persistent in calling persons as ‘things’, establishing what she had already assumed as to his complete apathy to and deficiency in true sentiment and connection when it came to human relationships, or mere daily exchanges. Her face remained serious, austere and hardened as his voice spoke through her mind and penetrated even the smaller cells of its corners.

He raised his hand and she remained cold in her position, eyes staring at him unblinkingly, and waiting with her face unmoving and distant – waiting for him to immediately trespass upon what she had only moments ago forbade him, for that was what he did, that was what he lived for. Halfway through, however, the hand stopped, and he lowered it back facing the ground, away from touching her, for once – and almost shockingly enough – obeying her, like a loyal dog, only he was not, was he? That mere moments ago he was spitting raging, hateful insults at her while prepared to possess and break her, whereas now he commanded himself not to touch her upon her wish – she could not understand it. This honesty; she could not understand him. Her eyebrows slightly curved at this notion, and even more so as his next words consumed her mind and lingered there for more than she could anticipate or tolerate, green eyes searing through his greys, as he spoke of the Libyan sun, the tidal waves, the ever growing moon and the weakness of man, despite a pursued desire, to exercise control and dominance over such natural elements. How could such a teutonic transformation ever be possible, from one ridiculously over-esteeming character to one clearly jumping out of the pages of the ancient poems and books narrating the epic deeds of heroes her brother Julian used to read? She remained quiet, contemplating what could not be contemplated, endeavouring to understand what could not be understood, and absorbing what she did not wish to absorb, and that was these lines of craftily selected words which altogether formed a message so true and so clear that almost pierced through her entire being with their concealed force at what his stare was able to confirm; the relentless hunt after the querry, the savage determination with which every fibre of his body was possessed, the insane lust for her ultimate submission were forces of nature photographed upon her glassy eyes, and as his burning silver orbs shone with turbulent, excruciating hunger upon reassuring her with a controlled passion her inability to command a true hunter to ever distance himself from a natural need and gift, his lips forming her name, a shiver run down her spine, for the first time bearing ill thoughts – even regretting – that she had revealed it to him, the dark reaches of her heart clenching from the foreboding of eventual discovery. There was something in the way he pronounced her name, the nauseating, disconcerting guarrantee with which it was encircled by; something in his low, self-assured and confident tone of his smoothly guttural voice, a sinister presage hanging from the air between them, which for that fleeting moment had conquered her spirit and caused the strengthened wind of trepidation to gently slap against her face in bold awakening.

She could almost feel his breath teasing her nose, but there was nothing in his smile to suggest his usual arrogance of manner; upsetting it was, for it manifested a feral, sick committment and devotion to overpower his victim. She merely stood there, quietly, face and jaw hardened, unable to react, unable to think of anything else but his feverish, penetrating promise. Her breath came out sharply as her eyes dilated, staring back at him in the same fervent manner, her forehead wrinkled to an extent from her frowning, as she searched his eyes for any clue there might be concealed behind those coal-black irises as to the ways he would adopt to achieve his proclaimed objectives. His words only served to further accentuate the distinction of the classes, the lack of immodesty, the arrogant way with which he so deliberately and carelessly compared himself to natural elements which were out of their power, out of their command, finding himself in the same position as them and daring to make an allusion which, however well-thought and paralyzing, showed his proud and imperious perspective, doting on his hubristic flare of the eyes and deadly reassurance as to the final outcome, always to his advantage – always ending in his dominance and her absolute submission, a primitive notion that crawled its way slowly into her mind and resolutely refused to abandon it, infecting her with uneasiness even though she only appeared to be infused with anger and revulsion.

She suddenly felt something very much resembling a burden writhing across her chest and her eyebrows furrowed over her radiant eyes. She closed that gap between them with one step, a fierce glare prevalent through her determined face, and looked at him straight in the eyes with red-hot resolve. “Ja, aber das ist der Unterschied zwischen Ihnen und mir,” she said, her voice low and calm, even soft, as her eyes gazed at him unblinkingly. “Sie denken an sich als die Sonne, die Gezeiten, der Mond … ich denke an Sie als nichts anderes aber ein Mann. Nichts mehr außer einem bloßen Menschen.”

She let the eerie silence sink in for the moments that followed, until her face adopted the same frown he was by now familiar with, eyes slightly narrowing from the passion of her proud proclamation as she stared at him with furious firmness and said, “Und ich werde nicht Ihre Beute sein.” The biting voice cut through the air like glass, razor-sharp and impassioned. Then, with a final glance, she walked past him, her arm only briefly brushing against his shoulder and her hair lightly across his cheek as she passed him, her eyebrows fiercely curved over the renewal of her wrath, his blood and filth embracing the skin of her hands, and with her steps desicive and strong, as she walked away from him in her torn dress and disappeared into the darkness, leaving him standing there alone, embraced by the howling skies and the veil of his own self-sufficiency.



Translation

Yes, but that is the difference between you and me. You think of yourself as the sun, the tides, the moon … I think of you as nothing else but a man. Nothing more but a mere human being.

And I will not be your prey.

[Rolf Jäger]

The wind pushed and tugged at Rolf's clothes, as if the very nature itself was testing the man's sudden resolve, but he stood steadfast, his back rigid, as if his dizziness had been dispelled by his sole will alone. The pain pounding inside his head had made him feel feverish and he could distinctly feel the cool breeze over his skin, either soothing him or reminding him of just how much he felt like burning. The feverish sensation had little to do with the blazing look in his silver eyes, however, and all Rolf could do was to stare at the woman who by now had assumed almost legendary qualities in his mind. She was the prey of all preys, the quarry that would always elude its hunters and vanish into the shadows just as her hunters had thought they would soon have the bragging rights for bringing her down. In his minds eye, he could almost imagine a misty forest in the morning and catching brief glimpses of her white skin from behind the black trunks of the trees as she tried getting away from him, her breathing forming white clouds in the cold autumn air. But he was ever watchful and relentless, tracking her through the silent forest, his silver eyes narrowed as he observed the prey, always staying on her trail. She would know he was after her and she would realize that this time, a hunter of a different, greater quality had resolved to catch her. The images were so vivid, he could almost imagine himself standing in that forest and the desert wind that touched his skin had transformed into thin, cool strands of mist instead. The dead branches of the trees hung over him maliciously and their sharp, skeletal fingers reached out to him, wanting to rip at his skin and draw blood. The very environment had turned hostile in an effort to protect this elusive, blonde-haired and white-skinned creature, but even that would not be enough to persuade him to abandon the hunt. The nature could try and turn against him, the woman could try and elude him, turn back and attack him, but it wouldn't change the outcome of the hunt, for in the end she would be his, willing or not.

His hungered eyes fixed once again on the woman, although his mind still lingered on the perfection of the previous vision, a challenge so engaging and intoxicating that it made his pained head feel clearer and more focused just due to the burning anticipation. His world was consumed by her pale skin and the gaze of those green eyes, now narrowed in distaste and irritation under her coldly arched eyebrows. He imagined her hatred and disgust hitting him with the violent and unbridled force of an ocean wave and it washed over his very being, creating exhilarating waves of lust and hatred. He wanted to break her resolve and change that disgust of hers into fear and respect or... maybe even something else, something his mind had not fully explored yet. He knew that before trapping his quarry, he would have to get inside that head of hers, learn what made her tick and how to control her moods, to instill that dangerous hatred so he could work it against her. He had to wonder how such a creature been created in the first place. Had she been so hardened by her peasant life or by something tragic that had happened to her in the past that she had abandoned so much of her femininity and replaced it with brute force and poisonous words instead? Rolf still remembered how his words regarding her family had broken that steely resolve of hers and she had lunged at him, only managing to still her hand at the last moment. Either she had loved her family dearly or she had been through some unpleasant experiences with them, it was hard to say, for both things could have triggered such a violent reaction. He also recalled how she had proudly stated that she wanted to serve her country, which obviously must have been the reason why she was in the distant wastes of Libya right now.

She truly was an enigma Rolf wanted to solve, although he knew that any chances of posing questions were far gone for now - at least for the night. The only thing they could exchange at the moment would be in the form or insults or violence and although Rolf didn't feel particularly sorry about this, it did hinder any attempts of finding out things about her. But she was in Africa and he imagined that it wouldn't be very far-fetched to assume that she would be where the German army was, too. The key to solving the puzzle lay somewhere very close to his reach and once he found out what it exactly was, the game could truly begin.

Rolf's words had seemed to have very little effect on the brazen woman and if anything, her expression only changed more sour at the Hauptmann's ominous promise. The man grumbled contently as he imagined that expression of silent hate changing into that of pure hatred and slowly creeping horror, on to some form of hopeless desperation and finally, he would witness the sweet moment where she lay conquered and silent, realizing that all of her struggling had been for naught. He would enjoy the fruits of his labor and savour that pale skin of hers, trace little patterns over it with his fingers and listen to her breathing in her silent surrender. Like all wild and untamed things, she needed to be broken first and only then she would see that Rolf had only meant to show her the error of her rebellious ways, that she could gain everything if she admitted her defeat and lose everything if he only willed so.

She stepped in front of him with one, swift move and stared him down, but Rolf met her gaze expectantly, wondering just what kind of anarchistic words she had prepared for him this time. She appeared determined, as if her fierce resolve would change the natural order of things, as if Rolf would suddenly just change his mind if she just spoke sternly enough. He listened to her impudent words as she pointed out that where as Rolf apparently compared himself to the ever unconquerable forces of nature, he was still only a human in her eyes, nothing more but a simple man. Rolf tilted his head slightly to the side, his grey eyes never leaving her features as he used this moment to savour her closeness and he pushed away her rebellious easily, for his attention was claimed by the enticing visage of her savage face. A silent moment passed between the two and the wind howled eerily around them, whipping the woman's blonde hair around and tugging at Rolf's dusty shirt. Her eyes narrowed under her eyebrows when she hissed her final words at him, telling Rolf that she would never be his prey. The corner of Rolf's mouth drew into a small, crooked smile of dry amusement and his steely eyes returned to her gaze coldly, assuredly. She glared at him and suddenly brushed past him, his arm bumping against his and her blonde hair touching Rolf's cheek momentarily. The alluring scent of her hair still remained in the air and the man closed his eyes half-way, reminiscing in the moment when her hair had brushed against his skin. Rolf turned around slowly and watched her walking away in an angry, determined gait, as if she truly imagined that she was leaving the man behind her so easily.

Raising a hand to his forehead, he could feel the source of his brief clarity and strength dissolving, as if he had been fueled by her hatred alone and he now grew weaker with each step she distanced herself from him. He found himself stumbling and breathing more heavily and only barely did he manage to make his way back to the wall of the building. His shoulder bumped painfully against the stone and Rolf grumbled and snarled both at the pain and at his own weakness. The man leaned his back against the wall with a deep sigh and focused his eyes on the darkness where the woman had disappeared to. He couldn't catch even a glimpse of her white skin anymore, but he could imagine feeling that raw hatred still emanating from the distance and caressing his skin with its burning fingers. A slow, satisfied smirk crept to the man's lips as he rested his head against the wall and stared into the darkness, knowing that she was somewhere in that blackness, her dress ripped by his hand and her mind tainted by his promise.

"Oh, ich bin eine Kraft der Natur, ich bin aufrichtig... Sie begreifen es gerade noch nicht," the man addressed the shadows hoarsely and released a low, guttural laugh. His eyes narrowed and he growled low in his throat like a canine, recalling the last words she had left him with. "Die Beute wählt seinen Räuber nicht, Riedel. Und weder tun Sie," Rolf rasped and closed his eyes when the torrid waves of pain hit him again, only this time, they reminded him of the presence of his untamed prey and he let them wash over him while he smiled, sinking slowly into his own, private sea of lecherous and violent desires.


Translations:

"Oh, ich bin eine Kraft der Natur, ich bin aufrichtig... Sie begreifen es gerade noch nicht."
"Oh, I am a force of nature, I truly am... You just don't realize it yet."

"Die Beute wählt seinen Räuber nicht, Riedel. Und weder tun Sie."
"The prey does not get to choose its predator, Riedel. And neither do you."

[Edward"Butcher"McMillan]

Moderation Post:

Um...wow...great thread!

"The prey does not get to choose its predator, Riedel. And neither do you." Well said!!

The following CP has been issued:

Riedel - 17CP

Jäger - 17CP

-JT